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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987854">Mother Knows Best</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_sendhelp/pseuds/sleepy_sendhelp'>sleepy_sendhelp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:07:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_sendhelp/pseuds/sleepy_sendhelp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Love does not choose its prey.” She answered, placing a kiss on her son’s head. “Is that why you’ve caged yourself in here? Because of love?” </p><p>or... it takes his mother to get Thomas Lightwood’s head on straight</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Sophie Collins &amp; Thomas Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mother Knows Best</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic is very self-indulgent I just wanted Sophie to talk some sense into Thomas’s head. Also idk why I keep trying to write angst but here it is. (also originally planned this to be Christopher but I thought Sophie might be better)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas Lightwood had imposed on himself, an exile of some sort, where he locked himself in his room and only came out to eat. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents were worried about him, and they must think that he’s grieving his sister’s unfortunate and untimely death. That fact added another stone of guilt on to his pile of guilts, clamoring over each other for a chance to be at the forefront of his conscious. </p><p>The truth was, Barbara had been at the back of his mind ever since the night of James and Cordelia’s engagement party. His harsh words towards Alastair bounced around in his head, incessantly echoing, as if to remind him what a cruel person he had been. He’ll never forget the way Alastair’s eyes hardened with the effort to appear emotionless, right after his desperate attempts to ask for forgiveness, all of which had been brushed aside. </p><p>Thomas could not help but feel as if he’s made a mistake. But was it a mistake to defend your mother’s honor when she could not? Was it a mistake to be furious at him, when he helped spread rumors about his father and his dear aunt Charlotte, who had endured difficult and unnecessary hardships just to serve her people? Was it a mistake to be rightfully angry for how he made his friends’ lives a living hell at the Academy? Thomas thinks not.</p><p>Still, he could not help how his heart felt like an open wound, exposed to the stinging salty air by the sea. The memory of that fateful day in Paris, when he had been a naïve and ignorant child, threatened to overwhelm him and swallow him like a dark tide. Something he could see from miles away, and something he could not run from. A small part of him, a selfish small part of him that he had snuffed out like an unexpected flame as soon as it appeared, wished that Matthew had kept quiet. He wished that he had let Thomas enjoy Alastair’s company in peace. </p><p>He remembered feeling like he was treading on eggshells when they went to the Louvre, trying to correctly navigate through the situation he’s found himself in, lest he lose the only companion he has. He remembered feeling like his heart was caught on a net when the lights of the Eiffel Tower shined on Alastair’s face, and it was at that moment he appreciated the beauty of Paris, when his eyes were not on it. Now he can’t fathom seeing the familiar lines of Alastair’s face again without remembering how his own words had wiped out the excitement on his features when he approached him at the Institute. </p><p>Thomas sighed and set down the book he’d been holding on to his nightstand. He’d been staring blankly at the pages, because the dark cover of the book reminded him of Alastair’s hair and like an unsuspecting hare, he had fallen into the hole. </p><p>A knock on his door pulled him out of the hole. “Come in.” he said faintly, hoping he wasn’t heard and whoever’s on the other side would leave him be. His hopes had shattered when the door opened slowly, revealing his mother, Sophie Lightwood. </p><p>She made her way inside and opened the windows to let fresh air replace the stale one in the room before settling beside him on his bed, leaning on the headboard as he did and gathering him into her arms. It felt nice to feel like a little boy again, though he towered over his mother now. Any newcomer who did not know him in his boyhood would not believe that this large man had come from the womb of the petite woman beside him, who cradled him like a newborn at present.</p><p>“What’s the matter love?” she asked. “and don’t lie to me, I am your mother, I know you.” She added. </p><p>Well, that settled it. Thomas released a breath and sank deeper into his mother’s arms. </p><p>“Mam, I’m too young to be this afflicted by love aren’t I?” he said, a hand coming up to grasp his mother’s arm, tracing idle patterns where he touched. </p><p>“Love does not choose its prey.” She answered, placing a kiss on her son’s head. “Is that why you’ve caged yourself in here? Because of love?” </p><p>Reluctantly, he nodded. </p><p>“I’m afraid that I… love someone, someone who does not deserve it. Or is it too soon? Maybe it’s just a fancy, I don’t know.” His voice cracked, he has not spoken so much in the past days. </p><p>“I wouldn’t know son, it’s not my heart at an unrest. How can you say that the person does not deserve your love?” she combed through his hair that was much like his father’s. Sophie smiled at the reminder of the man she loved, just downstairs in the library, waiting for her. </p><p>Thomas released another deep breath, but nothing seemed to soothe his constricted chest. </p><p>“They were mean to my friends at the Academy,” he started, “and they helped spread those awful things about you, and the rumors about aunt Charlotte and father-” he could not finish. Saying those things aloud, to his mother no less, made everything more real. He felt her tense, and he felt even more horrible for bringing up a painful topic. </p><p>“I’m sorry, mam.” He wheezed, he apologized over and over, drowning out his mother’s attempts of placating him. It was only when his throat had become raw after sobbing so much that he heard his mother speak. </p><p>“Son, that was years ago. The society we live in has always been cruel to women,” Thomas started to protest but before he could, Sophie spoke again. “and though that fact is not an excuse, you were all young, and they might have repeated the things they heard the adults say. How long has this been on your mind Thomas?” she worried, the hand on his hair became more insistent, as if it can weed out all his pain if she tried hard enough. </p><p>“Only for a few days.” He meekly said. Then it all came pouring out, everything from Paris to the night of the party, everything had come out in the open except for his name. </p><p>Sophie listened patiently, her grip on her son never loosening for as long as he told his tale. </p><p> </p><p>“Am I a horrible person, for loving a horrible m- woman?” he asked with his eyes shut tightly, fearing his mother’s answer. </p><p>“Loving someone does not make you horrible, son. From what you told me, you have not condoned his previous actions. I am so proud of you Thomas, because you are not blinded by love, and you are not binded by grudge. If you can love someone after knowing their flaws, after they have grown from their mistakes, then that is true love.” Sophie said firmly, her gentle hand had lifted her son’s chin so she could look him in the eyes. “You said he- they regretted their actions, do they not?” </p><p>“Well, he- she seemed to have regretted it, though they were not given the chance to make the proper apologies because we had none of it and talked over hi- her.” He stammered. He was so tired, his body was completely slack and exhausted after a day of nothing but crying. It was hard to keep up the façade. He couldn’t tell if his mother noticed anything. </p><p>“Well, it does take two to quarrel. Forgive yourself, because you have done nothing wrong, and forgive them because I do.” She said. All the fight had left his body, and within his emptiness, relief flooded in and a flicker of hope emerged. </p><p>“What about my friends? I don’t want to betray them.” He remembered Matthew’s words as clear as day. </p><p>“I don’t want you to betray yourself. Your friends are good people, and they will see sense because you have, and you have always been the voice of reason. The truth is there to be found, only if your friends are humble enough to accept it. If they feel hurt when you pursue that person, and lash out at you, it will speak none about your character and all about theirs. Do you understand?” Thomas sat up properly, and held his mother’s hands in his. He kissed both of her cheeks and caused her to smile. </p><p>“I understand. Thank you, mam.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his head which was pressed upon her chest. </p><p>“My sweet, sweet boy. That man is lucky to be loved by you.” She said. Thomas’s eyes flew open in surprise, but when he gathered enough courage to look at her, his mother only had love on her face. </p><p>Sophie moved to exit her son’s room, but before she could truly leave, she turned around while a hand gripped the doorframe. </p><p>“Before I forget, your father wants to train with you — apparently with the deluge of demons in the streets he wants you prepared, but I’ll bet he misses you too.” She winked. </p><p>Thomas smiled to himself, and feeling lighter than he has in ages, he prepared to go downstairs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! comments and kudos are encouraged and very much appreciated! Also, come find me on tumblr, my writing blog is @sleepie-scribbles and my main is @sleepy-sendhelp &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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